


The Bet

by amandateaches



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a sore winner, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Reader-Insert, You're a sore loser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:44:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandateaches/pseuds/amandateaches
Summary: Dean and the Reader make a bet.





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> This contains fics from two of the greatest sitcoms of all time: Friends and Parks and Recreation. From Parks and Rec: “Right now my gut is telling me we’re going to listen to Mariah Carey the whole way home", and from Friends: “Damn, I thought that was gonna be romantic as hell.”

“I’m telling you, it’s got to be the wife.”

“Come on, Dean, seriously? The wife? That’s such a cliché.”

He leaned back with a self-satisfied smile. “What can I tell you? I’ve got a sixth sense. It’s definitely the wife.”

“Ok, Haley Joel Osment, whatever you say,” you said with a laugh. “But, you’re still wrong. It’s obviously the neighbor. She’s got witch written all over her.”

Dean smirked and raised one of his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”

“Bet? What are you, 15?”

“What? Scared you’ll lose?”

You leaned forward in your chair and grinned at Dean. “You wish, Winchester. What’re the terms?”

“If I win, you have listen to Led Zeppelin non-stop on the way home.”

You shuddered involuntary and crossed your arms. Over the course of your relationship, you’d found that you and Dean agreed on most things. But, Led Zeppelin was not one of those things. He’d been trying to convert you for years, but you were unwavering in your musical tastes. “You want to play it like that? Fine. If you’re right about the wife, I’ll listen to your precious Led Zeppelin all the way home.” You caught the smile forming on his face and rushed to clarify the bet. “BUT, if I win, you have to listen to Mariah Carey all the way home.”

It took everything you had in you not to laugh out loud at the expression that came over Dean’s face. It was a mix between disgusted, annoyed, and funnily enough, terrified. After a minute, he gritted his teeth with resolve and held out his hand. “Deal.”

You grabbed his hand to return the handshake. “Deal,” you said confidently.

Dean smirked at you. “I wouldn’t get too over-confident, babe. My gut’s telling me that the wife was dabbling in a whole lot more than bridge tournaments.”

“Oh yeah? Well, right now my gut is telling me we’re going to listen to Mariah Carey the whole way home.”

Unfortunately, your gut wasn’t quite as reliable as you thought. Dean had been right about the wife, which meant that you had the lost the bet. So, now, you were sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala listening to the dreaded Led Zeppelin. And, after two miserable hours, and a whole lot of gloating from Dean, you were finally at your wits end.

“That’s it!” you yelled, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Haven’t you tortured me enough?”

Dean reached for the knob on the radio and turned the song down. “Hey, you agreed to the bet, babe.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to rub it in my face with your non-stop sing-alongs.”

Dean took one hand off the wheel and held a lone finger up in front of you. “Rule one of Zeppelin: you can’t not sing along. Besides, I won fair and square. I was right about the wife.”

“Of course you were,” you muttered sarcastically. “Aren’t you always right?”

He grinned smugly again, making your blood boil. “Well, yeah.”

“Ugh! You are impossible, Dean Winchester! Can’t you ever win gracefully?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. His grin widened as he reached back down and turned the music up over your protests. “Fair and square, babe. If you can’t handle the stakes, don’t make the bet.”

“Whatever,” you whispered under your breath, turning to stare out the window in an attempt to block out the noise. “I certainly hit the caring boyfriend lottery, didn’t I?”

Dean looked over at you quietly, taking in the defeated slump of your shoulders as you stared at the passing trees. He frowned, realizing he’d gone too far. He had been acting like a jerk, and he had to make it up to you. Luckily, he had just the idea.

The second you got back to the bunker, Dean made some excuse about needing to clean the guns and disappeared into his room. You offered your help, but he shrugged it off, so you retreated into the library to catch up on some reading.

A few hours later, there was still no sign of Dean, and you were starting to get worried. You got up to find him, walking out of the library and down the hallway towards his room, where you figured he had just gotten carried away with the guns. When you got there, you tried the knob, but it was locked. That really worried you. Dean never kept his door locked, especially not for you.

“Dean?” you cried, knocking on the door. “Are you in there?”

You heard a loud crash followed by a whispered curse, which only heightened your concern. “Dean?!”

After a few more muffled noises, you heard footsteps making their way towards the door. When it opened and you saw Dean, you let out a sigh of relief. “Damn it, Dean, you scared me! Why was the door locked?”

He smiled, showcasing his heart-stopping dimples. “I didn’t want Sammy bursting in on me while I got your surprise ready.”

You raised your eyebrows, forgetting about your worry. “Surprise?! What surprise?”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room, leading you over to the bed where he gestured for you to sit down. Once you did, he moved over to the dresser, where your computer sat open. “I would’ve been ready earlier, but it took me a while to figure out how to make a playlist on this damn thing.”

Before you could ask him what the hell he was talking about, he pushed a button and Mariah Carey music filled the room. You smiled, a lump forming in your throat as you realized what he was doing. “Dean? What’s going on?”

He turned to you, the love in his eyes bringing tears to yours. “I know I was being an ass with this whole bet thing…”

“Dean, if this is about what I said in the car, I didn’t mean it!”

“I know, Y/N, but you were right. You’re my girlfriend, not my kid brother. I can’t treat you like I’d treat Sam, but I did today. I held this bet over your head and I’m sorry for that. I want to make it up to you.”

“With Mariah Carey?” you said with a small smile.

“Yeah,” he said, an excited grin appearing on his face. “I searched for her cheesiest, most romantic songs. We can listen to them for as long as you want.” He turned back to the computer and clicked a few times. “And, I found the perfect one to start with? It’s called ‘We Belong Together’. That’s romantic, right?”

“Uh, Dean…” you whispered uneasily. You knew exactly what this song was about, and it wasn’t romance. But, it was too late. He pressed the play button, the words of the song filling the room.

I’m trying to keep it together  
But I’m falling apart  
I’m feeling all out of my element  
I’m throwing things  
Crying  
Trying to figure out  
Where the hell I went wrong  
The pain reflected in this song  
Ain’t even half of what  
I’m feeling inside  
I need you  
Need you back in my life (in my life, in my life), baby

You quickly jumped up to turn the break-up off, stifling a laugh as you looked up at Dean’s astonished face. “That didn’t sound like they belonged together at all,” he whispered in shock.

You laughed, drawing his focus to you. He scowled before laughing along with you. “Damn, I thought that was gonna be romantic as hell.”

“It was romantic,” you confirmed, throwing your arms around his neck. “Romantic as hell.”

“Really?” he asked with a sexy, pleased grin.

“Really.” You leaned up on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. You really had hit the caring boyfriend lottery. That was something you’d bet on any day.


End file.
